in the beginning pt. 2

“Buckin’ Muck Fulligan..”. He was obviously a little agitated, and confused. Ulysses was the recent topic of discussion; you know, Joyce? And what else would you expect working in a psych ward.. I mean, have you read it?  Phineas Poe told him about it, the crazy nut. Actually, there had been word of it from scholars and other pretentious hipster-types who liked challenging pieces of literature to read (because it makes them feel edgy). We all have something to prove, don’t we?

I guess I should take the time to explain who him is. Notice it’s not capitalized, because it’s not that Him; him. Shane. Me. It happens that I sometimes talk about myself in the third person; not really sure as to why that is, though…  It’s probably not life threatening but thanks for the concern ahead of time, just in case it is.

So I’m writing a book, or in the process of writing one, and it’s just not as easy as it seems, let me tell you. It’s never been very becoming of me to make up stories with elaborate plots, because really, I lack the imagination for that; the certain type required, that is. I’ll likely never create life on a planet like Arrakis or spin epic tales of Middle Earth but one thing I do have is the incredible ability to point out the obvious. Well, what’s obvious to me anyhow, so that’s what I’ll do.

       Reality is often kooky enough that you can make a really neat story out of it; I’m living it every day, and so are you. You just may not be aware of it. You’re in it right now, in fact. It’s not witchcraft, it’s fictional reality (thank Slayer for that one). But on a serious note, we’re in this together, you and I.

        

        Let’s get started.

There are many forks in the road but they all eventually lead you back to yourself, whoever that would be at the time (as in the present). I’m almost 30 years in, and the changes are beginning to take place. I can feel them, subtle yet gross; the return of Saturn in all her Copernican glory. She’s returned to teach a very important lesson but I never excelled at doing my homework, so I might be in a slight bit of trouble here; I really would not care to repeat the last 30 years over again. Not that they were bad, it would just be nice to have learned all the hard lessons and passed the test with flying colors now. Life. 

Some call it karma, others call it, well, whatever. There is always some consequence, perceivably good or bad, to each and every decision or choice we make in life; you know the story. Some people just can’t get out of their own way; some of the time I am this person. Some don’t produce enough forward motion to even have a way, just floating along eating bits of particulates and gorging on sunshine; most of the time this is where I’m at but everything grows into something, and it’s not always bad, so I try not to get too down on myself anymore and just keep making some semblance of forward motion. 

This does not, however, necessarily constitute as having learned a hard life lesson; for that, it’s the big things in life we have to look at, such as why you might always have the tendency to drink a little too much when you go out, knowing you have to drive, or who you associate with. Even what brand of toilet paper you buy or the way wipe your ass could mean the difference between loving yourself and just not giving a shit; or, also, it could possibly just be that toilet paper is not really something that important to most people. And in essence, it’s not; what I’m trying to get across is that nothing is so small that it is inconsequential, and to overlook even the smallest things is to overlook certain aspects of yourself. 

It’s our minds that are sick, not the world; what we see and know of it acts only as a mirror, of sorts. You know, like the old saying “you get out of it what you put into it”; that kind of thing. Sure, it’s fucked (the “world”) but we do it to ourselves nine times out of ten; it becomes a problem of an inaccurate perception then, a choice of living malevolently, not towards everyone else necessarily, but yourself.  

Think things are bad on the outside? Try looking into the hearts of man, or your own. Your true self, especially the ugly parts you know you can’t run away from (permanently). That’s where the real terror lies. That’s also where the conclusion is reached that it’s useless to fight it. That helpless feeling? That’s the battle waged between reality and the idealistic ego; it’s telling you that something’s wrong, and you know it is because you can feel it but it’s ominous in its omissions and you never quite get the full picture until it’s too late: Things tend to reveal themselves to us once we’ve dropped our preconceptions of them.

A mind has to want to change, the owner of the mind has to want to change it. And it’s a lot of work. It’s a lot of damn work. 

I thought about writing a book; instead I’m left with what’s turning out to be the memoir of a life not yet lived. Happens. But having a creatively neurotic, slightly overactive imagination is not the worst thing that can happen to you, oh no. For that, the prize goes to becoming aware of this fact, and trying to go on leading a socially accepted version of what a normal life is every day. At first, reality loses a bit of its lustre, and there’s usually a very dark period that comes when one is being wrenched out of their little sleepy dreams and into the big, bad world.  

Now, by this point you’re probably wondering just what the F am I babbling on about, and is there any purpose to all this nonsense? Well, no. Not really. I mean, there is but it follows its own formula generally but it’ll all make sense in the end.. Hopefully. I mean, give me a break; none of the writers I look up to put out all zingers; this is the awkward creative adolescent phase I’m stumbling through and will continue to until I’m about 87, when, I will have produced my life’s work. Hopefully. 

9.12.13

  Bjork is a force of nature; I thought of this taking my dog-child for a walk tonight. I thought of the video clip of her viciously attacking this Chinese reporter in an airport: Bjork had her child with, who was very young at the time. She was only carrying out motherly instincts to protect from potential threats, and I would feel very threatened by paparazzi lighting up flash bulbs in my face and prodding me with questions and microphones. That reporter is lucky.

   I thought of my own placement of Scorpio in my natal chart, which I am grateful, for without it, I would be a spineless jellyfish lacking intensity and sexual desire. Whether or not you believe in   astrology to be accurate or not is of no consequence because I believe enough for the both of us.
  Anyway, as I'm walking Jameson, a Suburban passes at a rather high rate of speed and I wonder what I would do if a car were to come up or down over the hill at us, swerve and veer right into us, with myself jumping high enough at the last minute to just be vaulted in the air and landing relatively unscathed in the grass while JB takes it head on, splitting his skull clean open or possibly being trapped and drug under the car. I imagine his little legs twitching from underneath the wreckage with nothing but his pitiful whimpers and utter confusion to counter the deathly silence that follows a car accident.

  It makes my blood boil to even think of it. Yes, I think of some rather morbid scenarios but in such a situation I feel a person is partially excused from their actions, due to nature having taken over. I am not condoning murder or violence in the least but extreme conditions demand extreme responses, and that, to me, is an extreme condition. For some, the flight response is more active but if you kill my kid (fur-bearing or not), I'm probably going to fucking kill you with my bare hands, especially if it's right in front of me as that would be.
  I would simply cease to be anything but emotions and primal rage; I would see red, as the saying goes.   A crime of passion. Temporary insanity. All that shit.

  Sometimes I really feel like all of us, every single person, is just one fragile psychotic episode away from being institutionalized. I work with them, so I know that some people are truly just sick, but what about the rest of us? I mean, some would argue that Bjork is a little off to begin with but was what she did to that reporter really that far-fetched as to something you would do? Your first instinct is to protect your young; it's engrained in our DNA so much that no amount of primping will ever alter it.
  I think we often forget or, at the very least, suppress our animalistic natures to the point that we begin to dissociate from it, and that's not necessarily good. That means we forget our humble origins and think much more highly of ourselves then we probably should. We're animals, people; human animals and it is what the fuck it is. Deal with it. We're not perfect and to dress yourself up every day and carry yourself in a way that says your shit doesn't stink is rather sickening, at times.

  Domestication, civilization are great things but at the end of the day we live on a planet with other animals, and those animals live by a simple code called nature. But not to worry, we haven't completely lost touch with this code: we do still exact our power at the top position in the food chain by striping the land from these other beasts for our own purposes and killing every fucking thing that gets in our way; this we've come to label as progress, so it doesn't upset anyone.
  The leaders of this human monkey movement keep their subordinates in the dark about important things by feeding them the things they think they want to hear, or what they want them to hear, all the while keeping the minions content with fat food and plenty of drink.

  For the record, I apologize for the political/socio-economical diatribe, because I'm talking about nature here and she follows her own rules. I'm not saying to go out and start kicking peoples' asses or rip anyone's face off with your bare hands but if you do, under an extreme condition where you're acting out of some deeper drive or force for the protection of your own safety or that of others, then just know you have my deepest understanding and excusal.
  You're exempt, in my book. And it's not just me; apparently Texas agreed with this father when he beat his daughter's attacker to death with his fists. He's not a criminal: He's a father, and he didn't do anything a single one of us wouldn't have done ourselves. We're all calm and collected and reasonable now, so of course dispatching the man seems rather brutal but just imagine yourself walking in on some creep raping/molesting your daughter, no matter what age she is. Nuff said.

  No matter how you try and dress it up, suppress or deny it, you're a force of nature so just don't ever forget that; nature won't let you, anyway.

9.2.13

  Well kids the party's over, it's time to go home. Time to re-hydrate, rest up and recuperate from a weekend of good food that's bad for you, good booze that's worse for you and questionable conversations that definitely entertain you. All in all, sounds like a good weekend to me but now it's back to reality. I think they have that statement backwards, though; reality is what constitutes those care-free days, it's the daily grind that is fantastical and I'll defend that position if it kills me.

   A little spontaneity is good for the soul... Instead of cutting the fun short with some great people by having to be drab and socially responsible to drive back home, my girlfriend and I decided to stay and pitch a literal tent in the grass. Our decision was awarded by cold beer, mountains of food, completely uninhibited yet intelligent conversation and most importantly, love. The epic outdoor breakfast prepared over hot wood coals wasn't a bad incentive, either.
  It's just amazing how you can meet some people you've never known before yet feel like you've known them all your life, and they take you right in. You fit. That, my friends, is a very real thing and having to cut yourself off from that to go back to voluntary slavery is the real crime.

  But, we get through it; rinse and repeat. You go to work and try not to lose your shit and just do what you need to to make it through until the next time you get to go back to the one true reality, that little place where life and celebrating it together intersect. That's where you want to be.

 

8.15.13 / The Road Ahead

  Vacation starts now, officially. Three days of sunshine and music with lovely company in Scranton, PA. Never been. I will be in a few short hours, though.

  Sleeping in a tent with the creatures of the night serenading you brings a person back to center almost immediately; it's been proven. Camping, nature in general gives our biological clocks a bit of a "reset", for all those late nights and early mornings and months and years of chronic sleep deprivation. Worse, lack of quality sleep. No fluorescents, no air conditioning, no alarms. Just cool mountain air and you. Who wouldn't love that?
   If you've never been camping, it's seriously something to experience and regardless of whether you love or hate it, depending on your level of prissiness, you cannot deny that it is a powerful (and empowering) experience. But, I realize not all of us are as comfortable with not having a guaranteed hot shower and sleeping on the ground, so just get your ass out on a hike, at least, and go take a shower at home later :P
 
    It really makes me a lot of sad and angry to see all our precious farm land and otherwise be swallowed up for the sake of developing cheap, shitty and certainly not eco-friendly or conscious houses that all look the fucking same anyway. It makes me sad for our future generations and it makes me angry at our ignorance, or greed. Money talks, bullshit walks. i guess our natural resources get to steppin', even though they are what keep us fed, sheltered and alive.
 
  What happens when there's no more land left to build on? Will we ever see that day? I hope not in my lifetime, anyhow but it's not looking good. Not to sound completely cynical but there are a lot of good ideas out there and people doing the right things, not just what is profitable but even they are largely in the minority. Even with all the little things we can do in a day's time to do our part we're all still standing in the shadow of some thing or some one omnipotent, and I don't mean in a religious sense.

  What can we do? Just enjoy what we can, while we can and keep doing our part. Continue to think freely and with the big picture in mind, make wise choices. Use dish towels and wash and re-wash instead of going through truckloads of paper towels, you know the deal: REDUCE, RE-USE, RECYCLE. I know how granola that sounds but I really don't care, because regardless of your spiritual views: WE ALL SHARE THIS EARTH. It feeds us, clothes us and keeps us alive.
 
  Just be a little nicer to it, ok?

Thanks,
Shane

8.12.13 20:28

  Same day, same place, different times, different space; head, that is. It seems a lot of my writing recently has been in the form of blog posts or scribbled notes, but not quite as much pen to paper contact as I'd like, not much journaling, either. I'm indifferent to it at this point but after reading Walden, by Henry David Thoreau the past few days, i can't help but wonder what that great American would think of this modern day.
  I mean, I honestly feel I'm about as rooted in classical literature as one could be, living in this day and age. I really think I was born two centuries late, as I'm much more at home in the 19th than this one. But that's not to say I completely abhor the modern world: I am more attached to my cell phone than I care to be, and would be lost without my MacBook Pro I'm writing you on now combined with WiFi.. and don't even TALK about how I'd get along without internet access.
  The whole of it is very bittersweet for me, and maybe for more than just myself, however, there seems to be a noticeable gap between our beliefs and our behavior, or at least just mine. In other words, I talk a lot of shit but at the end of the day, I still go home to my first world little house on the prarie existence, enjoying the finest things life has to offer. Do I feel guilty of this? Sure. But I'm also not gonna lie that I don't enjoy it.

  My guilt and feelings of discontent are philosophical, lacking a specific texture of emotion and it feels hollow sometimes. I feel guilty but would I give it all up willingly? It's doubtful, unless it was a catastrophic world event and shit was really starting to go down; then survival instinct kicks in and you act accordingly.
  I think about Christopher McCandless often, and especially now that I'm reading Walden, one of the many books he read before taking his journey. In case you don't know who the hell I'm talking about, look up Into The Wild.
  I envy Chris for what he did, for the courage and determination it must take to be a true soul rebel and go against the whole of society, to burn it all and leave no trace of yourself. You become a ghost, you cease to exist in exchange for the ability to truly live free, the way ( I can only surmise) we used to.
  It was stupid and careless and selfish, yes. He met a lot of kindred spirits along the way but died alone with slow poison flowing through his veins. Just another stupid kid. Or was he? I think he did what we all think of doing, wish we could actually pull off and do ourselves but that idea quickly gets dashed to pieces by what we call reality: Our job, our mortgage, etc.

  He took soul searching to the extreme, and I respect him for that but there is always a better way, and maybe not an easier way but a more practical one.

  Dislike it as I may, the real world is what we're stuck in, and it's what we have to deal with and make the best of. We do it every day, and maybe do not give ourselves enough credit. Some go home to escape it through their favorite tv show, some through drink or drugs, some through sweat and some through the mind. Whatever the means, the end is all the same, so, I guess that it once again all comes down to balance; that's all it ever is, a delicate balance and a power play between our hearts and our minds, our hopes and our fears and our setbacks and aspirations.
 
  The way out is through. Winston Churchill said "If you're going through hell, keep going", and that's about the long and short of it. What else can we do? I think a part of us all wants to return to a more natural state, my part wanting to have that homestead outside of the reach of humanity and its eternal ignorance and technology, let come what may and if I die, at least I first lived. But I'm not there, nor am I ready to be, and it's just not practical at this point. It is not impossible though; nothing is, and one day I hope that we all get to taste our own little slice of heaven on this mortal soil but until then, I guess you're stuck reading the words that I type and I'm stuck typing them, wishing for paper.

Post-Existential Uninhabit(at).

  Time is not our enemy friends, it's the perceived importance we've placed on it that is. Indeed, our entire culture would likely crumble into the dirt if suddenly there were no such things as 'time' or 'money' but would it be such a bad thing? What one sees as chaos or anarchy, another views as a return to a more natural order; the way things ought to be.
  We did it to ourselves, though; we always do. A novel idea becomes a crutch, a necessity of every day life but more like a slow cancer, in reality.

  Time ceased to exist long ago, it means nothing now: It's just numbers we stress out over fitting our days around. We make up rules and consequences for not abiding by this, for being "late". How ridiculous! If time, if money, if your precious schedule or the material items you own don't mean a pinch of shit when you're dead, then why should we think any differently of it when we're alive?
  This is our one chance, and we have to waste it slaving away to make money for someone else while all ours is being taken away?

  I normally don't voice my opinion of such things publicly. When I do, I'm already prepared to hear grumbles and scoffs and "that's life". Fuck you. We've forgotten how to live. Worse yet, we've never even been taught how to, we have to find this out later in life once we've blown the better part of it making all the wrong choices or none at all.

  You either decay actively or lethargically: choose wisely. 

  
  I was feeding the fish tonight, and it struck me that this is how life should be, this is as good as it gets and it's really all it's about. We used to build gardens, now we build cities. There used to be farms but now it's apartment complexes. It makes me sad only momentarily. What it makes me is angry. Furious, more accurately, and it should make you feel the same, god dammit.
  Trading resources natural to this Earth we inhabit, that all are entitled to but only the select few own the title to with glorified monopoly money. Ink on paper. It means something because we made it that way. There is no meaning to anything save for what we put on it, and we put meaning to the most meaningless things. 

  Wake up. Count your blessings. If you can do that, it means you're still alive and sucking air and there's still a chance for the whole wretched lot of us. Stop putting the control in someone else's hands and take it for yourself, for us all.